


Breath Stopping

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Breathplay, Canon Compliant, Drabble Sequence, Explicit Sexual Content, Gap Filler, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4305174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin comes home horny as all hell after his first taste of vigilantism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath Stopping

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about breath play, which is the act of restricting breathing for erotic purposes. I am not promoting the act, which can be very dangerous (and even deadly) if not practiced safely and in the presence of someone you trust completely (hence Michael's freak-out when he found Brian practicing auto-erotic asphyxiation).

Thump thump thump. Justin’s heart beats in his ears, electric bursts of sound, as first one kick lands and then another. Shouts of encouragement and cries of pain twine around the rhythm of his pulse like live wire – the snap and crackle of satisfied revenge. _Take that, you homophobic motherfuckers!_ Their enemies flee, vanquished and humiliated, their bare asses white as fish bellies. High fives and slapped backs. The exhilaration of victory goes straight to his groin. The lights of Liberty Avenue smear as he runs fast and then faster. Bumped shoulders, near stumbles. Cries of “watch where you’re going!”

Brian. He must get home to Brian before he goes to Babylon because what he wants to do can’t be done in the backroom. He wants to make Brian yelp with surprise, vertiginous pleasure on a knife’s edge of pain. He charges up the stairs, two at a time, and throws open the door. Darkness. For a moment he panics, Brian’s already gone, but then he sees him standing by the window, silhouetted against the sparks of lit windows, glimpses of other people’s lives not as thrilling as his own. Brian tips his head back, and the tip of the joint glows. 

He doesn’t reply to Brian’s “about time,” instead dropping to his knees, his face level with Brian’s crotch, fumbling with the fly of Brian’s jeans, yanking them off Brian’s hips. Cock. He needs cock. “Jesus,” Brian breathes when Justin swallows him to the root, sucking him to swollen. Brian doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t care. Justin’s fingers wrap around the base of Brian’s dick tight as a cock ring, while his other hand unbuckles his belt. He wants marks. He wants to leave marks. He wants to tighten a noose, and for a second, just a second make Brian afraid.

Brian’s cock’s hard pulse, it’s the only thing in the world. The only thing that matters. He sinks his fingertips into the flesh of Brian’s ass, the shape of red crescent moons tattooing the muscle that gives only slightly under his assault. Brian’s wordless shout of surprise when the head of his cock slams against the back of Justin’s throat, slippery with spit. Justin gags, but it’s not enough. He wants to choke on Brian’s cock, lose his breath with each urged-on thrust. He pinches Brian’s hip and twists the skin, gagging and choking on Brian’s instinctive plunge of escape. 

“Come.” It’s only one word, but enough to drop him back on his heels, the sudden release of his cock making Brian stagger. “Not yet.” His hoarse voice mingling with Brian’s angry groan. Frustrated. Thwarted. The spiraling flight of orgasm denied despite the throbbing in his balls, the tensing in his belly. Justin’s mouth is full of viscous saliva. He spits into his palm. Brian’s whole body bucks when Justin starts to jerk him off. Stroking and stopping stroking and stopping until Brian stumbles backward and lands in the chair, caught before a fall. He takes a hit, calming himself.

Brian holds the joint, and Justin breathes in the brief lightheadedness, the momentary placidity. Grabbing his buckle, he snakes his belt free from its loops. Will Brian let him? Will Brian let him stop his breath? And if so for how long? Blue-lipped? Eyes rolled back? Justin strips to the skin. Brian’s gaze swallows him whole. He kisses Brian – the violence of the night still in his mouth like whiskey – and wraps the belt around Brian’s neck. Arched eyebrows but otherwise no response, no struggle, nothing but a quick bob of his Adam’s apple and a shallow breath presaging asphyxiation. 

He kneels between Brian’s legs, hooking Brian’s knees over his shoulders, revealing more than Brian often permits. Brian’s head is tipped back. The joint to his lips again, careless with his body, reckless with sensation. Justin drops his gaze to the tight pucker, wets a finger and slides it in, no preamble, no warning, just penetration deep and sudden, startling Brian, making him drop the joint. Justin laughs, pinches it out with his free hand. Soft warm flesh – Brian on the inside. The abrupt contractions. Next to the tongue, the rectum is the strongest muscle in the body. 

The slide is slick, effortless, Brian’s prostate easy to find – the almond-shaped gland, the sweet spot. Brian reaches between his legs, stills Justin’s hand, his grip tight, demanding. “Milk it,” he snarls as though lust and anger are Janus-faced, but Justin’s not in the mood to please. He pulls back, leaving Brian empty, order ignored. Another orgasm dammed at its source as his cock lurches, slapping his belly, leaving behind translucent liquid pearls. Justin’s head between Brian’s legs, his tongue licking from asshole to balls, dipping in, teasing. Over and over, forcing Brian’s legs apart when they start to squeeze.

He looks up. The belt’s still there, draped loosely. He inserts his finger again and adds a second, a third. Brian’s on the edge of the chair. How easy to work in a fourth. But no. Not tonight. Tonight is about the noose growing tighter. He eases his fingers free as slowly as he’d slid them in – there’s no desire to hurt or harm, just test the boundaries, the edges of love, the verge of trust. No pain. He’s already inflicted enough tonight. It made him thirsty, but he won’t sate it now. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night is another patrol.

He straddles Brian’s hips, and Brian grabs his ass, thrusting, searching for contact, for friction, for release, eyes wide, close – as close as Brian will ever get – to begging. A plea on the tip of his tongue, but what emerges is Justin’s name, his voice choking on desire. Justin lets him find his edge and then freezes. Over and over till Brian’s slippery with sweat, his hair soaked and clinging to his brow. No one else makes Brian feel like this. Justin sees it in his eyes. No one but him. Others can try, but they will always fail. Always.

He’s awake, alive to every cue, not a slave to his climax like Brian is. It’s the only way. He’ll keep Brian safe. Nothing between his attention and intent but awareness. The slow incremental cinching of the belt, every sense tuned to Brian’s body. Every single twitch of muscle, every abbreviated breath. Tightening. Tightening. Watching for a hint of fear, for a signal to stop. There is none. Brian’s gaze goes hazy, and his eyes flirt with rolling backward, hazel turning to white, lids flittering, lashes clumped with sweat. “Come,” he whispers against Brian’s ear just as Brian’s breathing stops.

Brian’s body is all animal instinct now, the struggle to come and breathe equal to each other. Equal in need. His fingertips sink into the flesh of Justin ass, holding him still as he thrusts again and again and again before stumbling over the edge, a sharp and sudden fall. The instant Justin feels his body freeze on an upward thrust, he lets go of the belt, letting the noose open as a surge of breath follows a surge of release. He’s not surprised when Brian starts to cry – he’d done the same when Brian had played with his breath.

He, himself, doesn’t come. He doesn’t want to. Brian’s climax was his own, Brian’s ecstasy his inheritance. He helps Brian stand and leads him to the couch, sandwiching him between his body and the cushions, his head on Brian’s chest, savoring Brian’s every breath, every beat of his heart. They won’t be going to Babylon. Justin is sure of that. Brian will sleep, and then he’ll wake and that is when Justin will have his release. Brian thrusting languidly, still thrumming with exhaustion, his speed only increasing when Justin urges him on. Urges him to his own safe sweet refuge.


End file.
